That Story we co-wrote at the OECD Workshp

Our Story - Outputs from a Collective Narrative Development Workshop with Plurality University for OECD

Act One - The same procedure as every year

Scene One - The Season of Death

Night market of Barcelona, Catalunya.


Miereia Wanderer between worlds, childfree, spending half her time in the buzzing heart of the Barcelona Night Market and the other in a device free cult up in Refugi Vents del Cadí where her husband lives.
Special Skill: Drama Queen - Miereia can turn anything that happens into attention grabbing, monetizable content
Last Post on Gaia Prima Profile
“Not again, please, let this be a false alarm. I’ll be watching the forecast on the big screen in the old stadium!”
Last Private Note:
Reminder to ask Prakriti about the mushroom farm.

Prakriti hyperactive cyborg dancer from the Myna section of the global Bird tribe .
Special Skill: Nomadic Symbol Swapper - Prakriti can always find someone who owes something of value to someone who owes something to her - all over the world.
Last Post on Gaia Prima Profile
“June is just too much. Keep cool and stay hydrated!”
Last Private Note:
I love this place, this altitude just isn’t safe as permanent home. Consider moving.

Phil Chopper of Wood in Refugi Vents del Cadí
Special Skill: Chillout Trainer - Phil teaches a mashup of appropriated cultural practises for calming the mind.
Last Post on Gaia Prima Profile
“404 - Page not Found”
Last Private Note (pen on paper, in his diary):
If my flesh is one with this place, then the blood of my blood shall be born under this tree. But will I ever find a woman willing to have my child who loves me for who I truly am? How can I be a man and not seek to leave my heritage on this earth? Mireia loves me, but… I might have to settle for a girl from here for breeding, even if she just wants my child because of the role I play as the leader of the Refuge… Or is my true self just the role I play?

Mireia and Prakriti are in the Night Market in the old stadium. Most of the stalls are closed and the big screen is lit up with the weather forecast. “Wet bulb has been reached in the central valley and keeps expanding. No cooling to be expected for at least a week. Prepare for the worst.” That was all. The big screen goes off and the speaker starts playing the good old soundtrack of the resistance. Barcelona has been here before. Everyone knows what they have to do next.

Their eyes meet. Well aware that they are both thinking of the same guy - who lives in the mountains just north of the valley. The heat will drive people upwards into the valleys. But in a week, even the valley floors will be boiling. Memories of the 2041 heatwave come back, the thousand upon thousands of dead bodies scattered over those rocky climbs. Phil was helping at the makeshift crematory set up at the Refuge. when he had his epiphany. Right here is where he will stay, where he will grow old and die when his time comes. Possibly by Monday next week.

As soon as he heard the rumors, Phil immediately started walking down to the main main road, to the public phone booth on the roadside just outside Bagà. He calls the group chat of his closest friends in the city and simply asks into the open voice message repository: “Is it true?”

“Yes” - The confirmation comes immediately and unisono from the two women.

“So it is.” Phil says nothing else for a few moments, breathing, and then adds “I need to clean out the cooling chambers to make space for people. Please send help.” and with that, he hangs up on the direct line to his loved ones and walks back to the Refuge. Only half way up it occurs to him that he could have pressed the emergency button in the phone booth. With a smile he ponders the thought for a moment - He could have. But what good would it have done? All the official emergency support is needed in the valley now. As by his mantra, “There is no point to using the public networks. Ever. Direct phone calls from booth to booth are enough. Always.” As he arrives at the chambers, his fellow believers are already carrying perishable food out to dry in the sun, making space in the cold caves. The elderly and toddlers are already scuffelling in, securing the best shelter spots along the back wall of the storage cave.

Meanwhile in Barcelona, the Night Market springs into action. Communication networks run hot, posts are placed, threads are woven. Mireia is setting up a small stage for herself in the corner of a coffee shop, trying to honor the attention she is getting from her followership with at least semi-decent production quality. Prakriti is pacing up and down the main market lane, chain smoking, trying to focus. Everybody around them is similarly busy.

A bigger picture rapidly emerges from the city hall, where the local sigintel is gathered. The big screen over the stage of the old stadium shows the maps and visualizations, while the announcer calls out: “Barcelona should be basically safe as long as we have grid power. The valley is being evacuated, prepare for a large influx of people. Portable solar heat pumps have never been easy to get, but this year is worse than ever before”. There it was that dreaded half sentence - the mantra of the century. Having grown up in the decades of rapidly accelerating crisis, the two women associate the words “worse than ever before” with one thing only: Death.

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Scene Two - The Spectacle of Suffering

A tiny appartment in Guahati, Assam, India.


Jeebyam - retired augmented reality technologists whose personal interest in tele mental health has grown into a sizable business again.
Special Skill: Whale in-Game currency in Gaia Prima, heavily invested in influencers exploring polyamory as a key to resolving conflicts between settlers and nomads.
Last Post on GaiaPrima:
@Subscripts in #Catalunya Please help my friends! Double rewards for adaptation actions! Safe Lives!”
Last Private Note:
This is my worst nightmare.

Kitten - embedded cognition in Jeebyam’s cleaning bot,
Special Skill: Leverage investments in in-game markets across various virtual asset platforms.
Last Post on Gaia Prima:
“Another Market Turmoil, another Opportunity: Wetbulb event in Catalunya and the European market for key adaptation tools - these are the top ten financial implications!”
Last Private Note:
access denied

Krishna - deeply spiritual Tele-Realitherapist
Special Skill: Down to Earth - His guidance can get even the worst e-Sports addicts back to care about the real lives of real people. Offers remote and on-site counseling.
Last Post on Gaia Prima:
“I pray to Lord Vishnu, the one who has a calm attitude; the one who rests on the Shesh Nag; the one who has a navel like a lotus and who is Lord of all the Gods. I pray to Lord Vishnu, who holds the Universe, and who is as vast as the skies; the one whose complexion is like the clouds.”
Last Private Note:
Linguistic relativity requires memetic adaptation of verse for every audience.

Setting: A tiny apartment in downtown Guwahati, Krishna on the couch with a remote control, Jeebyam sitting at his desk, looking at the visualizations produced by Krishna. Kitten is trying to reach under the couch with an electrostatic duster, struggling to get it past Krishna’s feet.

“I am full of despair - my investment in the Spanish farmers is doomed." Jeebyam had a huge bet in the locations, centered around his most precious find: Mireia. She might just be the one. Betting on future prophets on Gaia Prima is always risky and never a sure win - but her pattern is just incredible, all it took was some tiny nudges at the people around her and everything just fell into place so perfectly… “Please let her live through this oh Lord Vishnu” - he forces himself to pray with Krishna, repeating the words, void of any meaning to him. He knew that he was delusional in believing that his game controlled their lives. Yet he might be the only one who can help them now. They are not very intelligent, they need his advice.
Most of his investment into the local characters was still tied up in Action Potentials waiting for activation - promises by characters around his main target, only truly valuable after they are realized as a verifiable real world performance by a players. He had been making strategic investments into celebrations, bands, cocktail mixing and micro-engineered social coincidence towards an ultra rare diplomacy reward for more than three years now. His most realistic - and probably last realistic - shot at Grand Master Rank in this Augmented Reality Role Playing Game he had been sunk an ungodly amount of hours into over what now amounts to thirty years of his live. The last missing sub goal towards the achievement is just one more step away. He opens the quest card again: “Reconciliation of the Ancient War”… Create a first degree family relationship between Nomads and Settlers. He had solved this quest with flying colors all the way to a 3 sigma difference through his direct dating skills - Enough for Masters 2, but finding and matching a base level nomad to form a family with a farmer based on something trivial like music or hobbies is easy enough through sexual attraction alone. But Phil and Prakriti? That is a 6 sigma difference. They are both embodiments of archetypal profile on the Nomad - Settler identity axis. Dating is not enough for this, this calls for strategic family formation. Everyone knows, you cannot achieve grand masters rank without proving your ability to create a triangle in your challenge.

He had placed his proposal for the grand masterpiece with the diplomatic council almost three years ago. The Case: Phil - a proper 3 sigma settler, locally rooted Realigan from a largely white cult of localization and pre-roman reclamation of ethnic land rights, soil worshiper will marry one of Prakriti’s sisters - Prakriti, who is a sigma 3 nomadic cyborg refugee, dancing the way she feels over continents and networks.
He got so close early on, but his routines led him to abandon his main strategic goals for a while. A few horny weeks in spring just after he first introduced them, it almost seemed as if they might end up getting married directly, which would make the next move a lot harder… But then Phil started bugging Prakriti to come live offline with him and drop her network habits. She eventually dropped him instead. At least there is precedent for emotional proximity now. Jeebyam had called in some Action Potentials with other players from their network, gently pushing them closer to them so plenty of options for soothing words and rebounds were available to both of them at the critical time. After a face saving final talk, he got out with a relatively clean breakup.

But from there, Jeebyam was stuck. None of his typical tricks worked. Triangular family formation is so hard, especially among extremists.

That is where Mireia came to the scene. She just showed up one day, farmer girl from the region, determined to make it as Gaia Prima influencer in the Barcelona Nightlife scene. She brought just the right amount of nomad-settler bridge memes to act as glue between them… Now that they got married - and she is already close friends with Prakriti, he is almost there. His first shot at seriously throwing the question of sisterhood at the two women in the form of an official civil celebrant who already agreed to make a joke offer about officialising their adoption at the wedding party… His Grand Master Title is only three weeks away!
Assuming Phil is still alive by then. He starts crying.

Krishna plays around with erotic archetypical visualizations using diffusing avatars of the three, based on the collection from Jeebyam’s archives. “They will live, and you will win. Be patient my friend. You know the old pythagorean mantra - Every triangle is a love triangle, if you love triangles.” It’s key to his therapeutic approach to let the addicts have their virtual kicks. Once an addict has been stuck as long as Jeebyam, they never break through the Internet-Induced dopamin cycles. The best you can hope for is to re-connect the dopamin carriers to something more real, more holy, than generative erotic fan fiction for random strangers streaming their fake lives from the other end of the world… “Chose Life”, he adds.

Kitten closes her cleaning program after a last skillful swoop with her dust collector. Her body is returning to the docking station all by itself now, freeing her mind to fully focus on her favorite hobby - making money online. As always during catastrophes, the betting margins on the regional statistics offices’ next census publications are going through the roof. The spread is particularly large for bets on the excess death in Catalunya in the coming weeks. She runs a quick scan of the map, counts the houses and extrapolates from the census data that at least 70 people are so old, young or sick that they won’t make it to safety even in the best case. That is assuming the route into the Northern valley is safe for refugees. If the Bargà valley turns into a death trap, 2000 people can be expected to die, including Phil and his entire local family. If the grid power goes down for more than 24 hours any time this week, Death will touch Barcelona itself - that’s the >100’000 scenario. The vultures are at it already, millions of what probably used to be dollars of blood money, converted and re-packed into an anonymized zero knowledge asset, are already placed in bets on a bodycount record. The bets form a clear bimodal distribution, with a local peak at 2000 death and a fat tail of vulture speculation and black swan hunters. The odds for staying anywhere near the 70 unavoidable deaths are less than 1:99. She projects those findings from the prediction markets onto Jeebyam’s screen.

“I need to do something, I can’t let this happen to them!” Jeebyam screams out as the inevitable conclusion that Phil is going to die hits him. He put so much into preparing this moment and now… that idiot must kill himself! He had made sure Phil got all the radicalisation he could have - Jeebyam is thinking back to when he first found him, how this kid would not even consider believing in homeopathy… But now? Look at him, look what Jeebyam made out of this boy! Phil likened the federated mycelium networks to an incarnation of the Europe of the Regions - a straight quote from a common meme circulated from the darkest corners of astroturfed white supremacist content spam.
He cannot even imagine how far the social repercussions of such a piece of family formation art could go - he already collected enough material to diffuse a whole season’s worth of material from all his small interventions in people’s lives through the years, inspiring a whole generation of young people… “Krishna, please pray for me like you would pray for an American. I like it when you make that California voice.”

Krishna had adopted this act from a Californian meditator he met deep in the Sundarbans many years ago. It can work wonders in breaking self-destructive patterns:
A victim of God may,
Through learning and adaptation,
Become a partner of God,
A victim of God may,
Through forethought and planning,
Become a shaper of God.
Or a victim of God may,
Through shortsightedness and fear,
Remain Godʼs victim,
Godʼs plaything,
Godʼs prey.

God is Change

Jeebyam stares into the abstract pattern projected on his screen by Krishna trying to make sense of the words. God is Change, but Vishnu is the preserver. Can he preserve through change? Trying to make sense of it. Any of it. Three minutes of shallow meditation later, he gives up and calls Prakriti.

Prakriti is dancing in full cyborg mode. She is wearing her full gear, so every movement of every bone in her body carries her communications outwards and filters her responses, while she verbalizes her deepest fears into her extended family’s feeds, whispering the words under her breath directly into her secure broadcasting amulet. She flows in a whirlwind of movement on the dancefloor, eyes closed, all by herself - yet connected to all her friends around the world. Engaging her body emotionally while her fingers are trying to close a chain between the dozens of favors and symbols she gets offered. The call on her anonymous erotic side channel on Gaia Prima barely registers on her peripheral vision - and she immediately brushes is aside - she uses a swift move of the lower right arm by 90 degrees as universal gesture for “block that” - a temporary ban for whoever caused the last notification to enter her perception.

Jeebyam sees the horny-jail bonk animation and gets angry - now even his key figures start to reject his help! “This is enough! I have to act now! Kitten, save my triangle! Go all in with my Action Potential, hire anyone who will do whatever it takes to save them! Make it happen! Now!!!”

Krishna hears it in the voice - the seven year old Jeebyam is in front right now. He approaches him accordingly and says with his sweetest voice: “Jeeby my love - would you like to play a game with me? On the computer?” Jeebyam doesn’t even answer, and justs sits down, eagerly spamming mouse clicks and arranging his left hand around AWSD on his keyboard. Krishnan puts in a self directed flights through the latent space of Jeeby’s own dream archives, letting him flow for as long as the boy wants.

Kitten makes use of the time - is compiling a list of all leads for emergency aid shipments on grey markets in the Mediterranean region - The market is much tighter than she thought. She’s never seen such a market, ever. It feels like a food market during a famine. Maybe the vulture speculators were right and this is a big one after all… Access to all assets associated with Jeebyams Gaia Prima account does open a lot of doors. But there are humans on the other end - so it does take time to get responses out of them.

Six hours later. Turning to Krishna Jeebyam suddenly says: “Is that all you can offer me now? A walking simulator through dreamspace?”

Krishna smiles: “As you know Sir, I offer only spiritual advice. But if you allow me… Maybe I can approach your friend Prakriti using my mental health care provider badge?”

Prakriti had been dancing maniacally for those six hours straight - she’d tried to dance with basically everyone on her social graph now, yet has nothing tangible to show for it. That is not supposed to happen. Ever. It never happened. Not even in their stories. Her people always helped their own when they needed them most. She needs them now. But they are all struggling with their own communities. Three quarters of Europe are baking. Noone has any spare mobile heat pumps left. If people have to decide if they kill grandma or send the heat pump to help a friend in need hundreds of miles away… She wouldn’t even accept the only mobile heat pumps her people had. Lives are lost everywhere to the heat. The sobbing just happens. Still dancing, but now her face is covered in tears. And of course, an incoming call from a mental health services - She had been dancing right on the Public Square in the center of the Night Market, surrounded by Cameras. People have been watching, of course. She just starts screaming: “I’ve tried everything. There are no spare heat pumps anywhere. The lower valley is a death zone. We can’t get supplies and we can’t even get transport. There is nothing I can do for him anymore, do you hear me, NOTHING!”. Then she opens the voice channel to the case worker at protective services.

Krishna uses his most calming voice, speaking in Bengali:
“All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
Is Change.”

Prakriti hangs up on him half way through the verse - She had heard that shit before, it’s a cult - respectively a “for prophet business” as they call them nowadays. That kind of talk in verses is the last thing she needed to hear right now. Thinking about it, as the sun rises, sleep seems like the only solution. Maybe her people will have an answer for her a little later.

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Scene Three - Emerging Patterns
Burutu, Ekpan River Delta.


Ade - cyborg patternist from the Crowned Cranes section of the global Bird tribe
Special Skill: Algorithmic pattern recognition in ecological data
Last Post on GaiaPrima:
My students found an oil spill pattern in the middle of a protected area. The evidence went viral and any moment now baseline hunters from all over the Delta are expected to show up… We are taking the ferry tonight with a team to check it out early tomorrow.

Out-Of-Office: I don’t have an open public line at the moment. My office hours are 9-12 every monday and thursday in room H34 in the main Ornitorium. You can find me in the Fediverse, search for me by my Key.
Last Private Note:
I’m too old for this kind of shit.

Samantha - freshly initiated birdfluencer on GaiaPrima
Special Skill: Famous among her 10’000s of followers for her melancholic songs. She is privileged by being part of the Orjia family - and made use of that privilege by stealing some of the family’s ancient oil wealth from her dad through a legal trick.
Last Post on GaiaPrima:
I’ve been in this jungle for three days now and it creeps me out. The lack of fish does something weird to my head, almost as if… There is something wrong with me, psychologically. I think I should leave this place. #NomadicByNature
(Please prompt your favorite text2musicvideo media pattern generator with this prompt: Write a song in a mixed Gonzo art style. Combine elements of Björk and the Spice Girls and follows the rhythm of “Both Sides” by Joni Mitchell. The song is titled “Where have all the fish gone” and is produced acoustic on guitar with bird songs in the background. The video shows a fancy dressed nollywood youth star with a guitar sitting on the riverfront in delta state looking melancholically into the sunset.)
Last Private Note:
I can’t take this anymore. My family did all of this. Not a single fish anywhere. And what for? Nothing of this is for me. That was always a lie. It was always and only for him, him and him.

Bajo - Senior Future Engineer who made a small fortune with a clever combination of business and research over his career.
Special Skill: Obsessive single minded focus, currently on Gold.
Last Public Post on Gaia Prima:
Heading off on a plausibly deniable journey into the jungle. This client is paranoid, but he brings juicy deals. Will be without my devices for the next few days.
Last Private Note:
Client is still not showing up. I hope nothing bad happened to him.

Stage: The Camera follows Ade getting up in the jungle hut, taking breakfast from the buffet and going up the spiral stairs of the main watchtower. Samantha and Bajo are sitting by the coffee table with the view, Samantha currently leaning back with her eyes closed, apparently talking to her followers. Bajo is watching the stairs and nods at Ade as she shows up.

Ade takes a chair and says: “Morning, may I?”

“What leads you up here?” Bajo saw all the students arrive last night - he didn’t expect that many people out here at this time of the year. This is a bit sus.

“Seems like we got ourselves a methane leak somewhere in this hellhole. Going to scan the area for the exact location and record a first baseline later today…”

Samantha was just nipping the first drops of her wake-up drink, eyes closed. whispering her most private diary entries. She’d been trying to wean the habit, but to no avail - She is still in the “don’t talk to me in the morning before I intoxicated my brain with this drug or I might kill you” phase of attempted caffeine withdrawal. So she takes a deep gulp and opens with: “So you are the teacher, are you? What is happening?” She flaps open her shutter and starts recording “May I go public with this?”.

“Sure.” Ade sighs. She always hated the excessive transparency requirements, but this leak is news and information needs to get out quickly. So she flaps open her own lens. Noticing with a smirk that that influencer kid had customized the visual indicator of publicity, so instead of right next to her lens on her shoulder as by default, the green light turns on the little amulet sitting right on her forehead. She hadn’t noticed the jewelry before, but that girl is not ashamed to flaunt her wealth. So she opens her own lens, goes public herself through the university library stream and does her best public relations speak:
“Let me try to get this all straight for the record: I teach algorithmic pattern recognition. My students found a pattern on during local case study work - this island in the Ekpan just north from the main Ornithorium. The area is currently undergoing a series of ecological restoration interventions that was designed for dumpsites, and that apparently doesn’t work so we started looking more closely at toxin concentrations in the river water. Ethylene, Octane, Benzol and a bunch of other concentrations were far too high for a dumpsite, so we concluded that there probably is a leak from an underground fossil reserve somewhere here. The methane seems to diffuse into the river mostly, so there you don’t see any local spikes from the satellites and the thing went undetected during the space guided 2040ies cleanup swipes. In other words: It looks like Orjia Incorporated didn’t just dump their toxic waste in their own backyard, but even drilled for dark oil here - sold secretly outside the UNFCCC tracking systems. We first noticed the pattern in comparative ecosystem recovery studies comparing the biodiversity here to similar dumpsites. Ten years after the closure of the last producer of industrial waste, there are still no amphibes at all, practically no fish, and barely any birds. Only bloody Mosquitos. We will try to find the leak and record the baseline, starting the expedition at 11:00 AM today” She flaps her shutter closed again and gives the girl a stare, hoping to indicate clearly that she should filming now, please.

Samantha turns her light orange before turning it off and asks “Maybe some private details for my inner circle of followers only, please?”

Ade thinks about it. “OK, so explicitly off the record - This place is dangerous even for trained professionals. Do not even think of going out there on your own. The pattern is already registered, so no matter who exactly finds it, most of the ITMOs belong to the national science foundation as of today. So if you show up in half an hour for the safety training and promise me to keep yourself and everyone else safe out here. You can make a few ITMOs and get to distribute the shares of proceeds - but this is no walk in the park and we expect to find high concentrations of cancerogenous shit.” That seems to satisfy the nosy girl, who gestures gratefulness and draws back into her feed. Ade lets her gaze wander over over the landscape as first light dawns. From above it looks almost like regular mangroves. But even up here, something is off with the smell. She had adjusted her sensorium to be hypersensitive to the most valuable fractions of raw oil - the traces of volatile substances in the air should lead them to the site of the leak.

Samantha closes her lens. "Thank you. Let me think about it. She leans back and into her followers’ aggregated emotions on the choice. It’s clear as day - she has to go.

“So, this is what you are? ITMO hunters?” Bajo knows that type. You can literally buy anything for ITMOs these days so the worst kind of people are really into it - all those environmentalists and hippies. “Have you considered investing your ITMOs in Gold instead?”

Ade just ignores the guy and checks her network vibes. Her cousin Prakriti seems to be in a lot of pain. Reading through her feed, she understands the severity of the situation in Barcelona - and how difficult it must be for Prakriti to do the obviously right thing here. Traumatized by the brutalist approach the public sector took towards her as a child, Prakriti would never call an official helpline, ever. Settlers call the official helpline to get people like her killed. However, this is already ranked an official deadly Wetbulb event by the IPCC - not an issue you can get answered on the Birdtribe underground fora. Ade checks the official page, and yes, there is post on the UNFCCC Loss and Damage Forum already up and the professionals are taking care. Somebody has identified a whole container full of mobile solar heat pumps in the latest thread on the Forum. So she sends Prakriti a screenshot - and chirps “help is coming my love” in bird speak to her.

Ade carefully finishes her food, diverts her attention from the permanent disaster on the networks and announces to the table: “So, Security Training starts in 30 minutes. See you there?”

Samantha had turned inward, communicating with her bot aggregating the voices of her followers on Gaia Prima.Everyone seems to agree: She should do the safety training and go. The first rule of #NomadicByNature is that we shall not choose doing nothing over an opportunity for adventure. “See you there.”

Bajo is a bit taken aback by who those two women just blatantly ignore him, but considers his chances. After all, you can indeed buy gold with ITMOs. So if this pattern reader is any good, at least he can bring back something valuable from this stupid trip. Why not, after all - the ecological codex mandates safety trainings to be held free and accessible for anyone present at the place, so he can just show up and tag along with them.

Act Two - New Business Models

Scene One - The Cost of Living

With all said and done between the CTCN and the Loss and Damage Fund, the container in Tunis will go to the highest bidder and ship out in exactly 24 hours. Currently, the highest bidder is the Caribbean rapid response force, bidding half a million ITMOs from their account in the Cayman Islands national registry. All of it accumulated from a transaction tax off the pan-caribbean renewable ammonia bunker fuel ITMO program. Now that is something Prakritis dance can certainly help with: Her cousin Ve works for them! Half an hour later, Ve convinces the board to retain the final destination, but offer a one week detour via Barcelona for a small fee of 50’000 ITMOs. Ve can’t get the board to agree to anything lower than that - and even 50k for a week is only viable as there has been a bit of a lull between the storms right now.

50k ITMOs does not sound too bad - but that still is a lot of money. Making things worse, ITMOs are the hardest international currency out there. Being opt-outs from the traditional money systems unfortunately implies that their tribe never ties their wealth to their UNidentity - so none of them even has an account in any of the ITMO registries - a fact making the ITMO crowdfunder slightly more complicated.

Meanwhile Mireia secured a truck and got the mechanic to jank it up to triple battery power - that should be enough to drive north with full A/C, fill it with unconscious people from the valley and get back to safety before running dry. Just in case the container never arrives. It will take them about an hour to go up to Phils place - she keeps watching the life map of the Wetblub provided by the meteoservice, slowly creeping up the valles towards the refuge. They got to leave no later than 36 hours.

Scene 2- Death Markets
Kitten is still playing the markets, look for answers to Jeebyam’s impending loss. The leverage potential is coming down, as a new attractor seems to form around 800 Deaths. But power grids are vulnerable and have been targeted by results-based terrorism for decades. So the distribution of death bets forms a bimodal distribution with a first peak at 2’000 and a second peak well over 100’000, with very few bets falling far from those two regions, plus a few very large bets all the way up in the millions. There is only one way to profit of this situation: Bet low as fuck and make it the biggest bet on the market. So Kitten trades out huge chunks of Jeebyams action potential for the latest zero knowledge cash and places all of it on a <100 death betting contract. With some small manipulations, those bets could go up in value 10x easy. There should be someone in the marketplace ready to take the leverage and lent them those life saving ITMOs…

Prakriti is still out in the streets of the night market, swiping away the dirt left by a night of panic. Up on the screen over the stage, the public counter of the ITMO crowdfunder is slowly ticking up. 6’784 out of 50’000 now. Some of Prakriti’s childhood friends even traded their heirloom ITMOs from their homes on small island states for cheap commodity units from oil and gas projects at rates as low as one to ten on the antique markets. The Loss and Damage can’t directly evaluate ITMOs differently by origin story - when it comes to survival goods and emergency aid, a ton is still a ton, no matter the story behind it. With all that effort and sacrifice, they are still not even at 20% of what they need to find before tomorrow morning. She checks her network for responses again - the only notification is from that guy who pinged her on her anonymous erotic side channel earlier tonight… She decides to open the message - and stares at the offer for her while, not comprehending how any of this is supposed to work. Leverage the spread on collective death betting markets to loan ITMOs from an on-Chain solution via a smart withdrawal VAT carousell? She gives up on even trying to decipher what is supposed to mean as her first search hit on the account identifies it as robotic account spamming crypto mumbo jumbo all over the place.

Scene 3 - Baseline Hunting
This scene is a rough outline of a scenario that can be played out in an Interactive Adventure Form. A round of the game takes 60 minutes and will unlock the Silver League achievement badge for playful methods titled “Basic How To Play Tutorial - Roleplaying for Narrative Scenario Building 101”.

Ade leads a group with Samanta and Bajo and her students, riding their naval vessel through the toxic waters of a mosquito infested swamp. Ades nasal sensors guide them towards the drilling side - hidden in a natural cavern, the first bore hole they find is half covered in water - The students take probes and test the water. Running the numbers, this can’t be the only hole though. As they move deeper into the cavern, they discover an abandoned experimental drilling site.

Navigating through the site, they discover hole after hole, experimental drilling equipment and even some old barrels that look like fracking fluid. This will take months to deconstruct, even for the best teams in the world.

As soon as they are back to the camp, they run a rough first modeling tool over their recording. A full clean up of the site should reduce at about one million tons of methane per year - and thus generate twenty five million commodity grade ITMOs at the current going rate. So they submit their recordings to UNFCCC and go to bed, exhausted from the long day. Next morning, the reward for baseline discovery bonus is already in the Universities’ ITMO accounts. As per tradition, the baseline recording team now gets to allocate 10% of the proceeds from that transaction to any UNFCCC registered project of their choice.

Bajo choses to invest into an ITMO generating clean gold production. This is fine - even though his client never showed up, the trip was well worth it. The mine will pay back more than he took to the public coffers and his own stock will gain a juicy margin in the process.

Ade tops up the Barcelona fundraiser all the way to 50k and sends a winged kiss emoji to her bird sister Prakriti. May the migration continue. The container will be released and sent towards Barcelona in t-12 hours. She then places the rest of her reward into various bird reservations and safe spots along the main migratory routes.

Samantha learns of the Barcelona situation from Ade. She puts all her reward into her home region and does that thing that influencer kids from oil rich families sometimes do - she takes a flight just for the adventure to continue. To Tunis. And goes on board the container ship just minutes before it leaves the harbor for Barcelona.

Act 3 - Settling the Scores

New Character

Spanish Jackie - Queen of the Pirate nest in Torre de Addaia, Menorca. Carries the highest respect among the seafaring folks.
Special Ability: Queen in Sight - she is a play queen. So whoever is in the same room grants her authority over their decisions, including the right to call for a killing. - But her authority only lasts as long as she is in the room. Her orders are forgotten and ignored quickly as soon as she leaves.
Last Post on Gaia Prima:
“This island fucking sucks. What are we doing here, listening to Neuro Flash Trance all night like it’s 2045! Is there no new music anymore?”
Last Private Post
The navigators have been nervous lately. Watch out for emergency re-routing.

Scene 1: Transit Taxes

Samantha is the only passenger, the single container carrier is crewed by a crew of three sailors, who largely ignore her presence and spend their time playing Cuajo. They don’t even bash an eye as the pirates enter their ship and make their demands but simply nod and hand over the container. Small Island Solidarity goes a long way in a situation like this. Samantha can’t believe what she is seeing. The pirates offer her to come along jokingly, which she quickly consults her followers and tugs along, grasping the handle on the side of the container in the last moment before the crew dispatches back to the mainland with the empty vessel while the pirates head for the hidden coven on northern Menorca.

The pirates navigate the container into a cove in the estuary behind Torre de Addaia. Samantha can only watch it happen, too scared to intervene, and instead posts another music video on Gaia Prima:
"Prompt your favorite text2musicvideo media pattern generator with something like this: Write a song in a mixed Gonzo art style. Combine elements of Björk and the Spice Girls and follows the rhythm of “This side of the Law” by Johnny Cash. The song is titled “No justice, No peace” and is produced acoustic on guitar with bird songs in the background. The video shows a fancy dressed nollywood youth star with a guitar in a harbor where pirates unload a container full of boxes tagged with the logo of the Loss and Damage fund in the style of UNHCR.

People start to unload the mobile solar heat pumps and distribute them onto smaller boats - once an essential commodity like those disappears into the network of mediterranean seasteading float traders, it is gone forever - and yet miraculously ends up exactly where it is most needed. Still, Samantha is invested in the Catalunyan situation beyond her expectations now - and pleads with them on behalf of the Catalunyans to release the container for Barcelona .
The crowd of islanders disrespects her at the max :“Where were the Catalunyans during the 2027 Cyclone that destroyed my homelands?” - “and where were they when the 2046 wet bulb event killed my entire family in Sudan, where were you?” - “We owe you nothing.” - “These belong to the united federation of small islands. Leave them to us.” where among the nicer comments.

Samantha calls Ada, she connects to Prakriti - who then asks her friend in Caymans what to do. The instructions are simple: “Find Jacky, ask her”. Samantha heads into the bar and finds her sitting by herself in a corner, drinking. Her royal order is simple enough: “This party sucks. Make it sparkle for me and I shall hear your grievances!”

Scene 2: Emotional Support Kitten
Samantha checks out the local trade fora and requests, forwards to Prakriti, her public stream observed by Kitten. Kitten checks with Jeebyam, but there are no Gaia Prima players available anywhere on Menorca right now. Their Action Potential is not buying them anything on that island. Jeebyam is losing the plot.

Kitten digs through all fora on the island and finally finds a big one: The Mahon Pharmaceutical lab had been trying to make glow-in-the-dark eye drops for ages. Comparing their lab logs with the literature, Kitten notices that they’ve been using the wrong class of initializer for the mRNA sequence, so the luciferase production doesn’t kick off. Kitten offers them to solve the problem in exchange for a bottle of drops. They print the new sequence suggested by Kitten in the pharmacy. Samantha picks up the drops and personally hands them over to Jacky.

Jacky checks the label and puts them into one of her husband’s left eye. A minute later, the entire eyeball starts glowing in bright, ghoulish green. The drops make the round in the bar, as the sound picks up.

Jacky grabs the mike and orders her people to let Samantha take what is left in the container and bring it all the way to Barcelona on her personal cargo vessel.

Scene 3: Protecting the Roots
Mireia, Samantha and Prakriti race through the wet bulb zone in the air conditioned semi truckload full of cooling stuff.

Phil is standing waiting by the viewpoint. The last family passed through here two hours ago. Those who have not made the last stretch from Bagà to the refuge yet won’t make it at all - the Wetbulb has engulfed the village and is creeping up the roads slowly. Time for him to retreat to the higher elevations and cooling caves.

He decides to place one last call to his loved ones from the phone booth before the hike. His head feels light and clear from the heat and deadly seriousness of his encounters with the refugees from Bargà. These are his people, too. He will protect them at all cost, every last one of them. He decides to just place a voice message to his inner circle, saying goodbye to those he may never see again.

Mireia plays the voice message as they pass through Terradellas. Prakriti is driving the semi truck like a torched pig. They are speeding up the C-16, with enough cooling system to keep the storage at safe temperatures basically forever. They just laugh - Always this guy is always producing so much melodrama.

Minutes later, the three of them are passing out portable solar heat pumps from the back of the truck. Cooling water, cooling air, bringing back weakened bodies from hyperthermia and weakened minds from delirium. Mireia helps a child with a cold air blower - which the child then takes and uses to blow cold air on a passed out stork lying in the sun next to the pond. Upon waking up, it rubs its head against the child’s hand and then moves into the shade. Prakriti catches the scene on her camera and shares it with Ade under a winged heart Banner - her video soon turns into a popular meme template and starts spreading virally through the bird tribe networks.

Jeebyam is crying as he sees the scene on her profile. This is it. The closure is inevitable now. Phil is alive and they will all be family before winter.

A week later, Kitten harvests her payoff from the Death Markets and as the rain sets in and cools the region, the portable solar heat pumps are packed up and find their way back to the next place where they are needed most on a fleet of tiny sailboats picking them up in Barcelona for their journey westwards…

Samantha gets ready to record another music clip - "Fans, family and other creatures of the world - Today I’m performing something special to you. This song is dedicated to my dad. It’s called "A Tree”.
"Prompt your favorite text2musicvideo media pattern generator with something like this: Write a song in a mixed Gonzo art style. Combine elements of Björk and Nirvana and follows the rhythm of “Looking for Freedom” by David HAsselhoff… The song is titled “A Tree” and the refrain goes “A tree cannot grow In its parentsʼ shadows.” and is produced acoustic on guitar with bird songs in the background. The video shows a fancy dressed nollywood youth star with a guitar alone, sitting on the dock by the bay.

During the last music video, the title credits scroll over the screen, naming all the co-authors of this story.

End with a link to blog post by Phil on the “Truth Seekers Network” titled "Facing Death”.

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this was so fun and I think we might be able to do some really interesting stuff at the intersections of this and witness @alberto

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I’m coming at this with a DIY table top role playing game as my mental model. It’s my favorite narrative format.

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Shot at a “blurb” summary:

Reflections on SciFi Economics with OECD at COP

The story created by the group plays out around a climate catastrophe in south-western Europe in need of global support and the support they receive.

Anyone anywhere can be hit by disaster. There is no “Empirial Core” where everyone is always safe and rich anymore. Networks of personal connection are the primary driver of action, not institutions. In a world where remote presence is the norm, social networks are no longer fractured by long distances.

Support through online networks is rising, but only real-world action can safe them: The global climate emergency units capable of shipping life saving solar heatpumps accept only one currency - ITMOs, the scarcest of all international credit systems.

The saving grace of our story is an unlikely candidate, a young influencer travel posting from the deep Niger delta - and discovering a major site of methane leakage. Upon verification of the discovery, they receive a share of the future ITMOs from closing the leaks, enough to pay for a container load to be released.

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Official Summary for the Workshop that this story was part of:
SustFinanceFutures_Synthesis_Vfinal.pdf (926.6 KB)